


Saying Loser, Meaning Love

by Inches_Apart



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: M/M, Tattoos, lots of book references with some movie references and lots of canon divergences, mentions of dying but nothing real explicit, the afterlife
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2019-02-02 06:29:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12721392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inches_Apart/pseuds/Inches_Apart
Summary: Richie Tozier's grief over the loss of his best friend and love of his life is expressed through a tattoo that he quickly forgets about why he got, along with everything else relating to Derry, Maine. It's only when he passes away that he is able to remember why it was so important, or rather the importance of the person it symbolizes.(I really don't know how to write a summary for this but Richie basically gets a tattoo to remember Eddie by except that doesn't work while he's alive and other things happen)





	Saying Loser, Meaning Love

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I don't know what's going on here. My wording is a little awful but hopefully, this story isn't completely terrible. There's a lot of death mentioned but nothing graphic. There's also some swearing.

The streets of Derry, Maine Richie Tozier had wandered down were dimly lit and had been dampened by the light, late spring rains. The endless expanse of deep rolling blue night sky was void of stars, and the few remnants of wispy clouds whirled their way across the overhead fields like tumbleweeds. The further Richie had walked from the small but rowdy bar, the quieter and stiller the world seemed to get. 

Despite the dullness ringing within his body from the many drinks of bourbon Richie had just taken, nothing seemed to ease the deep pain that had rooted itself in his heart. The pain that howled like a wolf and stung just as sharply as its claws. The pain that had everything to do with Eddie Kaspbrak.

Richie’s poor, sweet, Eds. The boy who had been as small and gentle as a flower, and more caring for Richie than any blood relative he had. The hypochondriac who never went anywhere without the inhaler he had known for decades he did not need and believed anything dirty would give him the plague. The man who could never seem to find himself happiness outside of the six friends he had made, and who had died for said friends. The man whose body was to never see the light of day again, and had been left in his most hated place on earth. The person Richie had loved more than anything else that he had known. 

No matter what Richie did, he could not clear his mind from the events that had plagued it. His body still felt damp from sewer water, his face felt streaked from where his tears had cleared away the dirt covering it, and he couldn’t rid himself of the horrifically warm and sticky feeling of Eddie’s blood. It felt as if the feeling of holding the love of his life in his arm as he had bled out would never fade from Richie’s senses. That he would continue to feel this way for the rest of his life. Richie felt disgusted.

Still reeling from the shock of what had happened, Richie had been able to contact his travel agent and book a flight back to LA after he and his surviving friends had escaped the sewers after defeating Pennywise. He had been able to do it before he would be forced to deal with everything that transpired and face his emotions and loss. Part of Richie felt that as soon as he started grieving, he may never stop for as long as he lived. For the time being though, he just needed to get himself far away from Derry, Maine as fast as he could.

Richie had only had a few hours to spare between then and when he needed to leave to make his flight back to California. Despite knowing that the night was once again safe from the harm and danger it had once contained, Richie wanted to spend as little time in the bare of it as possible. He had left his hotel room, and made his way to the small pub downtown that he had remembered from his childhood, but never actually been to. There, he had let himself get lost in the comfort of drinks and the warm environment of the bar. He had chatted, drank, and let himself laugh whenever he could forget the pain he felt for the briefest of moments. Richie would have been content spending the rest of his life in the shelter of the small cozy establishment, but by midnight, the owners had closed up shop and he had been kicked to the curb. 

Left with under an hour to spare before his cab was set to arrive and pick him to take him from his once beloved hometown, Richie was left to drunkenly wander the streets he no longer feared because of terror they contained, but feared because of the pain they were invoking that he wasn’t strong enough to face. 

This was because everywhere he looked, he could see Eddie.

He was in the small candy shop that he and Richie had gone to countless times. The ice cream parlor where they bought sundaes to eat under the park’s trees together. The Aladdin where he had taken Eddie one winter afternoon to see a horror movie together that Richie had to beg Eddie to go with him to see because the smaller boy was too afraid. He past main street where the Fourth of July celebrations had been held where he and Eddie had shot each other carelessly with firecrackers. The canal where he and Eddie had sat with their feet hanging over the edge on warm summer days before they ever even thought about dangers potentially lurking there. That was the very place where Richie had realized just how much the small boy had meant to him one summer day as Eddie had lightly dozed in the warm sun with his head resting on Richie’s shoulder. It was right next to the canal summers later where Richie would also have to tell Eddie the news that broke his own heart: His family was moving from Maine. 

Richie shook his head to clear the thoughts, his drunken vision being thrown all over the place by the rapid movement. When it refocused, it landed on the glowing neon OPEN sign at the end of the street. The sign that rested in the window of a tattoo parlor. Before Richie could even think through the idea, his feet were already carrying him to the building and in the front door.

The shop owner looked up at the sound of the tinkling bell above the door and asked what they could do for Richie. Again without thinking, Richie began to describe the red and black tattoo he wanted to be placed on his left forearm. The same design that had marked Eddie’s arms twice before. The design that Richie had only drawn on his arm again one night ago…

 

\-----------

 

Eddie was slightly dazed and fairly out of it when Richie had returned to him in the hospital waiting room with a cup of water for him. The painkillers he had taken when Henry Bowers had snapped his arm hours before were still in effect and were only now starting to fade. 

“Damn, Eds,” Richie muttered, sitting down next to his friend. “You got some powerful shit on you. You doing alright there?”

Eddie sucked in a deep breath and turned his head so his eyes, still looking unfocused, landed on Richie. He opened his mouth to respond before closing it again and furrowing his brows in concentration. At last, Eddie just mumbled out a confused “what? Yeah, I think” as he continued to look at Richie.

The man laughed as he gave Eddie the cup of water and helped him take a sip. They had just been released from the ER after Eddie’s broken arm had gotten cast, and Bill, Ben, and Beverly were still gone visiting Mike who was hospitalized after he was attacked by Henry. There wasn’t much point in trying to get Eddie to do things while he was still drugged, so the Losers decided it may be best for him to just sit in the waiting room while they checked on Mike. Richie decided to stay behind with him so he wouldn’t wander off or do something stupid, though, for the most part, Eddie didn’t do much of anything except stare around dreamily.

“Well aren’t you just quite the riot, Eds. A big ole bucket of chucks, eh?” Richie reached over to ruffle Eddie’s hair affectionately, and Eddie gave a small smile and moved to duck out of Richie’s reach. After his sip of water, Eddie’s eyes seemed to get a bit more focused and his presence a little more there.

“Don’t do that, Richie.” He gently swatted his friend’s arm with the back of his right hand, careful not to dump the cup of water he held in his fist on Richie. They both gave each other a small laugh.

“This is just like old times though, isn’t it, Eddie? You. Me. Your arm in a cast after being snapped in two by Henry Bowers. Just having some good chucks. I'd say life can’t get much better than this.” 

Eddie snorted. “I don’t know. My arm not being all,” Eddie made a snapping gesture with his fists and a cracking sound with his mouth. “Would be rather nice.” He leaned his head in close to Richie to rest it on his shoulder. “Might make this all better.”

“Yeah, but still. What were the chances that Henry Bowers would break your arm twice; once as a kid, and again as an adult thirty years later!” Richie chuckled to himself.

Eddie’s smile dropped. “Twenty-seven years later.” Eddie corrected, and Richie stopped laughing too. 

Of course, they could all call it a coincidence, but was anything in their life every really just that? It felt like they were running through a course that had been set for them. They had nowhere else to go but exactly where something else wanted them to go. The fact that Eddie’s arm had been broken twenty-seven years after it had been broken by Henry the first time was just another reminder of that. Eddie’s arm was probably destined to break again because of Henry Bowers from the moment they had cut their palms and made the blood oath to return to Derry when they were kids all those years ago. They were falling into It's pattern. History for them was starting to feel like it really was destined to repeat itself. 

“Yeah. Twenty-seven years ago.” Richie nodded solemnly. “Right.” The two boys sat silently for a few moments, both thinking over the same things. At last, and as usual, Richie broke the silence. “Hey, Eds,” He turned to look at his friend, forcing him off of his shoulder. “What about you let me sign your cast, eh?” He gave Eddie a smile and gently tapped his fingers on his cast. 

Eddie snorted. “You know what? Sure, Richie. Why don't you. Not like letting you write on my cast is the stupidest thing I’ve let you done.” He giggled to himself at that while Richie just rolled his eyes and walked over to the nurse’s desk to acquire a pen. He walked back with a handful of colored markers and smiled at Eddie. 

“Okay, I’ve got the weirdest idea of what to write, so just work with me a bit here. Oh! Also, close your eyes. I want it to be a surprise.” Richie excitedly uncapped a black marker and waited for Eddie to begrudgingly close his eyes before he carefully started to write. Finishing up the simple five letter word written in black, Richie swapped his black pen for a red one he held in his fist and scribbled on the finishing touches. “Okay, okay, okay. Now, you can look!” 

Eddie slowly opened his eyes and swung his head over to look at his cast. He almost wasn’t surprised to see the word LOSER written in big black letters on his arm with a red V thickly drawn on over the S. He dragged his eyes up to look at Richie with a slow smile covering his face. “You’re shit. You know that right, Trashmouth?” 

“My, Eddie. I must say I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.” He gave Eddie a smug, beaming smile.

Eddie gave a sigh, his smile never leaving his face as he shook his head. After a moment, he spoke up again. “You know, I felt really proud when I thought of writing that V over the S. I don’t know why, but I was just so upset by Greta writing LOSER on my arm that it saying literally anything else would have been better. You teased me a lot, calling me Lover Boy and what not, but I still felt proud of it. It felt symbolic. We all called ourselves the Losers Club, but we all really loved each other so deeply. We had the type of bond that was thicker than both the water of the womb and the blood of the covenant. We were Losers, but we were also Lovers.” 

Richie would have cracked a joke about them calling themselves just a big group of Lovers, but even he knew how inappropriate that would have been, and he was the idiot that had impulsively called Henry Bowers banana-heels when he had slipped one day and had nearly lost his life because of it. Eddie was, of course, right about them, though. About the Losers. He was also serious about what he had said. Most traces of being drugged by his painkillers had seemed to just vanish moments before he had started talking. He was more alert now. More awake. The attentiveness and sadness within Eddie’s eyes and words made Richie’s heartache for some reason. He suddenly knew what to say.

“I loved you, Eddie. When we were kids. I loved you so much some days I thought my heart was going to explode.” Richie pushed his glasses back up his nose and turned to look at Eddie. His friend’s face was solemn and stoic as he looked back at Richie. Richie couldn’t read anything about what Eddie was thinking, so he continued. “I know I may have kind of been a bit of a jerk to you a lot of the time when we were younger, but I… I really did. The day I said goodbye to you when my family had to move away from Derry was the worst day of my life. Even worse than the day Bill and I got chased by the werewolf, the day with the Smoke Hole, the day at Neibolt, and the day in the sewer against It. The only thing even worse than the pain I felt that day was the pain I felt a few days ago when I realized that I had forgotten all about you for over twenty, nearly twenty-five, years.” Eddie was still quiet, staring down at his hands grimly while Richie swallowed thickly and licked his dry lips. “I also can’t lie to you, Eddie. The day all my memories of you came back, I think… I think my feelings also came back. I still love you, Eds. I don’t think my heart ever did stop loving you, even if my mind forgot who you were.”

Richie felt like he had said enough. Frankly, if he tried to say anything else, he felt like he would have puked up what very little contents his stomach contained. Instead, he elected to sit there, drink the remains of Eddie’s water, and wait for him to respond. 

Eddie was silent for a long time, and during that time, Richie was only able to stare at Eddie with longing and hopeful eyes. Finally, Eddie lifted his head up, still not looking at the man sitting next to him, and almost as if talking to himself, just said “I’m married. I have been for a long time. I love my wife. I would never dream of doing anything to hurt her.”

Richie felt his heart drop down to his shoes. He knew he would have been asking too much of Eddie for him to have just gladly dropped everything going on in his life to run off with him, but he was also expecting something a little… more in response. It didn’t even feel like what Eddie had said to Richie was real. Sure it was true, but it seemed like Eddie also wished it wasn’t. He was saying those things out of obligation, not because he wanted to. 

Against his better judgment, Richie pressed on against Eddie, shifting his body to be facing Eddie directly in hopes that he would look at him. “I know you are. Oh god, don’t think I don’t know about your good ole Myra, you talked about her plenty. I just… I just wanted you to…”

As Richie trailed off, Eddie suddenly looked at him, his eyes looking angered and hurt. “What, Richie? You wanted what exactly?”

Richie shrank back. “...I don’t know, Eddie. I guess I just always thought you... kind of loved me too.” It was Richie’s turn to look away, but he could only look away in silent shame. He felt like he had made a mistake. 

Most of the fire behind Eddie’s eyes dimmed as he sighed and slumped back in the plastic hospital chair. “You know what, Richie, maybe I did love you. Maybe I really did, but that was when we were kids. You moved away, and I moved on. I had to, I didn’t have any choice. I grew up, I fell in love, I got married, I started my business, I got a life.” Eddie let out another sigh, tired, and rubbed his face with his right hand in an exhausted and depressed manner. It was clear to the two of them that even if Eddie had a life, he wasn’t truly living like one should be. He was settling. He wasn’t actually happy. “Even if I was in love with you, Richie, you have to understand I can’t. Being in love with you, even as a kid, it only leads to heartache.”

Richie opened and closed his mouth, trying to think of what to say, what could help the situation. He had made a mistake. He should have known what he wanted was just wishful thinking. It was clear to all the Losers that Eddie was not only infatuated with Richie when they were younger but also in love with Bill too. It was also so very understandable. Bill cared for Eddie. He protected him and looked out for him. He was a hero and a leader, and frankly, every Loser probably had feelings for Bill at some point to some degree. The simple matter of the fact too, was also that Bill was better to Eddie than Richie was. There was no doubt that Richie would have died protecting Eddie just as much as Bill would have done, but Bill would have never teased Eddie like Richie did. Richie never meant any harm by it, but he also never knew when to stop, and that lead to problems between the two. Eddie could dish out as many insults as Richie could, but they were only surface level insults. Merely pathetic playground quips. Richie had a tendency to make what he said more personal, and to someone as sensitive as Eddie could be, what he said had a tendency to hurt more. Bill would always listen to what Eddie had to say and take it to heart. Richie, on occasion, would have problems acknowledging anyone’s personal issues. Richie, as he begun to realize, had not been as kind to Eddie over the years as he should have, especially as someone who claimed to love him. He wasn’t good enough for Eddie. Why would Eddie want to be with him?

“I know, and, Eddie, I-” Richie was cut off by the opening of the hospital ward doors. Ben and Beverly followed a grim looking Bill out the door. The three of them looked over at the surprised duo sitting down and Bill gave a slight nod. They both understood instantly. It was time to go and finish what they had started twenty-seven years ago once and for all. Live or die, the fight was ending tonight.

“Let’s go, Richie,” Eddie grunted, standing up shakily. Richie grabbed his shoulder before he could leave though. 

In a low voice, he whispered to Eddie. “Can we talk more about this later, Eddie? Please?”

Eddie looked into Richie’s pleading eyes, warily, but also openly. At last, he lowered his eyes and spoke grimly as he walked away. "If there is a later.”

Richie wanted to scoff so badly. To say that of course there was going to be a later. But he knew such optimism could get him killed.

He just wished he also knew that Eddie was right in saying there wasn’t going to be a later.

\-------------

Unbeknownst to one, Richie “Records” Tozier, two weeks had passed from when he had had that conversation in the hospital waiting room with Eddie Kaspbrak, and when he had groggily rolled out of bed one morning in LA with a slight hangover. 

He squinted intensely at the light streaming through his window and tried to think about what had happened the night before. He remembers that for the past week or so, he was in some tough shit with his boss over something he couldn’t remember. Something about blowing off an interview, but he wasn’t sure. He had been given a chance to fix his past error though by giving another big interview to make up for the one he missed, and he had hit that ball out of the goddamn park. His boss had been so pleased, that he had brought out his secret bottle of whiskey to celebrate with after Richie’s shift had ended. He wasn’t sure how much he drank or what they did, but he certainly did get drunk last night, that’s for sure. 

Richie opened his nightstand drawer and pulled out the small bottle of aspirin he always kept in there for situations exactly like this. Popping a few into his mouth and swallowing them dry, Richie sat still on his bed for a few moments with his eyes shut. Finally, he stood up and walked into his bathroom to take a much-needed shower.

Minutes later when he stepped out of the shower with a towel tucked securely around his waist, Richie stood in front of the fogged up mirror and stared at his reflection. Barely being able to see anything, he slowly ran his hand across the mirror's surface to clear away the condensation. His reflection, while a bit more visible, was still just as blurry to him without anything to help improve his vision. 

Richie popped open his contact case which contained a new pair since his old ones mysteriously disappeared two weeks ago, and carefully put one into each eye before turning back to his reflection again for the third time. While his reflection was undoubtedly much clearer and sharper, it still felt just as blurry as before. It still felt like he couldn't tell who the person he was looking at was. 

Sure, the man in the mirror had Richie's messy hair, his brown eyes, his absurd dusting of freckles, and his mischievous smile (when he did smile that is), but he also seemed like a total stranger. Paler complexion than usual, thinning face, dark circles under his lifeless looking eyes. He was no longer the man he once was. 

His eyes traced over every distinguishing physical characteristic, every feature of his reflection's body before his eyes landed on the mark that left his stomach in knots and his heart aching. The image that he never wanted to see again while he simultaneous never wanted to stop looking at. The tattoo on his left arm that made him question himself, and left him feeling more confused and unknown than ever. The word LOSER stained in black into his skin with a bold red V written right on top of the S. 

Richie had no idea when he got this tattoo, much less what it meant. He just remembered two weeks ago heading into the station for his shift and one of his co-workers asked if he finally grew a pair and got himself some ink like he always was talking about. Confused, Richie had looked over his body before seeing the incriminating tattoo on his arm. The tattoo that he swore was not there last time he checked. The tattoo, that he was not sure of when it had appeared. It felt like one day he was just living his average normal life, and then something happened, he couldn't say for sure what though, and BAM. Richie suddenly had a tattoo. 

He could only assume that it had been a drunken mistake. Richie didn't always think clearly sober, but non-drunk Richie looked like Albert fucking Einstein when compared to drunk Richie. 

He wouldn't put it past drunk Richie to accidentally wind up in a tattoo parlor while intoxicated, but he still was unable to figure out why he had picked this tattoo. He always figured he'd get a cool tattoo, like a band logo or a shark. The word LOSER was not exactly a cool tattoo idea. It didn't even seem like something Richie would ever even consider writing permanently into his skin. Yet, for some reason, looking at the tattoo on Richie's arm gave him a forgotten feeling of belonging. It made him feel welcome and loved and accepted. But why did it also make him so sad? 

The first night when Richie discovered the tattoo, he had spent hours looking at it. With each passing minute Richie's eyes had stayed trained on the tattoo, he felt his heart tighten a little bit more and more until he was full out crying. From then on, he tried not to stare at it too much, though still pondered its meaning.

He never was able to figure it out while he alive.

\------------

Richie was standing in a river in the middle of a forest. Tall looming trees and thick shrubbery surrounded him on every side as cold water flowed past him quickly and soaked through his old beat up Keds. He glanced up and saw the sun shining brightly down from above, warming him and the day with its heat. Richie knew exactly where he was.

He was standing in the Kenduskeag in the Barrens. He was in Derry, Maine. He wasn’t sure of how exactly he ended up here, but he was here nevertheless. More surprisingly than that though, was the fact that Richie was not the man he last felt like he was. 

No, he wasn’t the old man he could have sworn he just was. He was twelve again. His sight was sharper (though still shitty and requiring his dumb coke bottle glasses), his hair was black and not balding, his joints worked smoothly and without the pain they usually caused, his teeth were real and healthy and still buck teeth, and he was wearing shorts and tee shirts instead of a button up shirts with a tweed jacket and cord pants. He felt energized and filled with a content happiness that Richie could never remember experiencing ever before in his life. And then it struck Richie why everything was this way. 

This was the afterlife. He had died.

Richie thought he should feel sad over this fact. He had left many good friends behind. Friends he had met over the past thirty years of his life who were like family to him. He never had a true family of his own in terms of a spouse and kids, he remembered, but his friends were closer it felt. Not the closest people Richie had had in his life, but pretty damn close nevertheless. 

He tried to remember how he went out. He felt like he should have vividly remembered that, seeing as that would have been the last thing he experienced, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He remembered one night talking to his best friend and his friend's wife and he could remember the word Alzheimer's being thrown around a lot, and Richie could only assume that might have been what helped him meet his end. He didn’t feel upset over this fact though. He was completely at peace.

Richie clapped his hands together and glanced around the Barrens, unsure of what to do now. This was apparently where he was going to spend the rest of eternity in, might as well get himself acquainted and figure out just what exactly this place had to offer. Before he could even step out of the Kenduskeag though, a figure came bursting out through the underbrush, pointing a gun at Richie.

“BAM! GOT YOU!” The person cheered before they looked at just who they pretended to shoot and dropped their gun in absolute shock. They stared at Richie wide-eyed, mouth open.

Richie, surprised by the sudden appearance of this person, also slowly began to recognize who exactly they were. Given, it had been decades since he’d seen them last, even longer since he’d last seen them like this, but the gates to this memories were gone and he felt like he could remember absolutely anything and everything he ever experienced if he wanted to, even if at the current moment the memories weren’t right there with him. And yet there was no mistaking the blue eyes, red hair, and freckled face of his best friend and partner in crime. She was still just as beautiful as always.

Eleven-year-old Beverly Marsh snapped out of her shocked state and brought her hands up to cover her mouth as tears began to form in her eyes. “Richie? Is that you?”

Richie found that he also had tears collecting behind his glasses as he replied back. “Well damn, Bevvie, I don’t know who else you were expecting around these parts. It sure as hell ain’t gonna be the queen of England, I’ll tell you that much.”

“Oh beep beep, Richie.” Bev laughed and ran out into the river to throw her arms around Richie. The impact almost tipped Richie over into the river, but Bev’s tight grip prevented him from going anywhere and the two of them laughed as they hugged and wiped the tears from their faces.

Bev took a small step back to look at his face and smiled. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Richie,” She giggled. “But I’m so fucking glad to see you. I’ve missed you so much. We all have.”

“‘We all have,’ eh? Got me an audience waiting for an appearance by the one and only Richie Tozier, Man of a Thousand Voices? I must admit, Bev, while I’m highly flattered I haven’t performed in years. My Voices may be just a tad rusty.”

Bev rolled her eyes, still smiling. “We all couldn’t care less about your shitty Voices, Rich.”

Richie pulled down an invisible slouch hat over his eyes and slouched as he equipped himself with his best Humphrey Bogart Voice, just like he did when he and Bev first became friends. “Nhow, nhow, shweetheart, nho need for such an attitude.” 

Beverly snorted. “Richie, that Voice was just as bad as when we were kids. How could you not improve it slightly in over sixty years later?”

“It’s not my fault! I’m stuck with the same equipment I was when I was eleven if you haven’t noticed by now, Bev.”

They shared cheeky grins and laughed as another person tripped stumbling out of the forest to the Kenduskeag. 

A young Ben Hanscom, donning one of his iconic sweatshirts, took in the situation and laughed in surprise. “No way. Richie Tozier!” He smiled a beaming smile, and it was too infection for Richie not to return. 

“Haystack! Back to rocking the hoodies I see.” He grabbed Bev’s hand and dragged her with him as he trekked through the Kenduskeag over to Ben. 

“Well, you know how it is. I lived in these things as a kid, so now it just sorta happens since I’m dead and stuck as an eleven-year-old version of myself forever in this plane of existence in the afterlife.” Ben reached out and helped pull Bev and Richie out of the river and crushed Richie in a hug once he was settled on the land. 

Richie let out a choked cough as Ben compressed his chest a little too tightly for comfort. “I suppose so.” He managed to wheeze out before Ben let him go.

“So when did you get here, Richie? Couldn’t have been too long, could it?”

Richie took some deep breaths, that he briefly wondered if they were actually necessary since he was dead and no longer possessing a physical body that would need oxygen to function. He wasn’t sure, but he definitely felt Ben trying to destroy his ribs. Though could Ben have even broken his bones if he tried? Were his bones even real? He wasn’t exactly sure how the afterlife worked.

Richie gave Ben a small shrug in response though. “I can only assume it wasn’t long. I didn’t exactly have time to do much of anything before Bevvie here made an appearance, and that was only a few minutes ago.”

“Regardless, everyone has been dying to see you! They’re going to be so excited that you’re finally here!” Ben cheered, smiling. He then quickly wiped the smile from his face and cleared his throat. “Not that we’re happy you died or anything, we’ve just missed you.”

Richie laughed and ruffled Ben’s hair like an annoying older sibling. “No offense taken, Haystack. I get what you’re saying. And where is everyone else? Shouldn’t they all be rejoicing and celebrating now that their favorite person has finally returned to them?”

Ben snorted, pushing Richie away from him to get him to stop messing up his hair. “We were in the middle of playing guns when you finally decided to show up. They’re all probably scattered throughout the Barrens.” 

“Don’t worry, I got this,” Beverly said before putting two fingers in her mouth and letting out an ear-splitting whistle. 

“Jesus, Bev, I just died and became eleven again, I don’t want to lose my hearing this quickly!” Richie shouted as he and Ben clamped their hands over their ears.

Beverly stopped whistling to laugh at them. “You two are sissies. Hopefully, though they’ll all hear it and meet up somewhere along the Kenduskeag.” 

Sure enough, moments later Stanley Uris stumbled out on the opposite side of the Kenduskeag holding a fake pistol in one hand and the hand of a pretty girl in the other. They were both smiling, and Richie remembered Mike once mentioning the fact that Stan had a wife when the Losers had reunited as adults. This must have been her. 

When Stan glanced across the river and saw Richie, his mouth opened in surprise. “Richie Tozier.” He said, shaking his head and chuckling to himself.

Richie grinned to himself and waved his hands over this head at Stan. “Stan the Man Uris!”

Before either of them could say anything else, Mike Hanlon appeared on the scene, splashing his way right down the Kenduskeag towards Richie. He was smiling so greatly that Richie ended up splashing his way up the river to meet him, and the two embraced.

Mike laughed, and Richie couldn’t help but laugh in return. Mike, like Ben, had a happiness and joy to him that was simply too pure to resist its infectious influence. Mike wiped a tear from his eye. “It’s about damn time, Trashmouth.”

“What do you mean about time? I’m always fashionably late, Mikey, thought you knew this by now.”

“Oh, beep beep, Rich.” Mike chuckled again and gave Richie a friendly shove.

“Richie!” 

Richie barely had time to figure out who had just shouted from where, much less respond to it, before he was being tackled in a hug so strong it knocked him and the other person right over and into the river. When Richie recovered from the initial surprise, he realized it was none other than Bill Denbrough.

“Bill!” Richie squealed with joy, basically sounding like a twelve-year-old girl watching her favorite boy band (or Ben watching New Kids on the Block). He hugged his friend tightly, overjoyed by his presence, and ruffled his friend's red hair and looked at him. “No longer going with the chrome dome I see. I thought you pulled off baldness rather well, Big Bill.”

Bill rolled his eyes, laughing. “Fuck you, Trashmouth.”

“Oh my, is your stutter gone as well?”

“I’d sure as hell hope so. I spent years working to speak without it alive as an adult, I wouldn’t want to then end up stuck with it forever when I died.”

“You’ll still always be good ole Stuttering Bill to me!” He laughed and Bill gave a snort of amusement and annoyance.

“Why are you two in the river?” Another young voice spoke up from the banks of the Kenduskeag and Richie turned to see an eight year old Georgie Denbrough holding the hand of a young girl with hair just as red as Beverly’s and freckles just as intense as well. 

Richie turned to Bill, his mouth open in surprise, as well as joy and Bill, nodded his head. Bill had finally been reunited with his brother. 

Richie stumbled to his feet, trying not to get knocked over by the sweeping waters of the river and made his way over to the banks of the Kenduskeag where he hugged Georgie who squealed in response. 

“Stop, Richie, you’re wet!” He giggled, trying to squirm out of Richie’s grip.

“Oh but you love me! And I'm sure you missed me just as much as I missed you!” Richie said, smiling as Georgie finally broke free and scrambled a few feet away. Richie then turned to the girl and bowed. “And I assume you must be Audra, the lovely wife of Billy Boy. I remember your face but we didn’t really get the chance to properly meet while we were both still alive, seeing as the one time we were together in person you were catatonic and all that.” He laughed and Audra gave Richie a giggle before she curtsied back to him.

“Right you are, I’m Audra Denbrough. And you must be the notorious Richie I’ve heard so much about.”

“Ah ‘notorious,’ eh? See they weren’t telling you the good stuff about me then.” The two laughed again.

“Oh please, Richie,” Stan said as he made his way over to him and the others, still holding the other girl’s hand. “Like there’s any good stuff to say about you in the first place.” 

“Yowza! See you’re still Getting Off Good Ones, Stan. I’m impressed I must say.” He made his way over to meet Stan and hugged him before turning to the girl he was with. “And you’ve gotta be the one and only Mrs. Uris. Can’t say I’ve heard as much about you as you probably have me, but I must say I’m still charmed to make your acquaintance.” He offered his hand and she gave it to him, smiling. 

“Patricia Uris, though most people call me Patty, and I must say the pleasure is all mine, Mr. Tozier.”

“‘Mr. Tozier!’ Now there’s a nice name to hear. Say, I must admit, I love you already. How on earth did Stan manage to find such a catch?” He gave her a wink and she snorted a laugh while Stan rolled his eyes.

“Glad to see you didn’t change in the slightest, Richie,” Stan said.

“Now why on earth would I want to go and do something as silly as that?”

“Maybe because you’re terrible?”

“You got me there, Stan.” They both burst out laughing.

Richie looked around again at his friends, smiling. He can’t believe he’d forgotten about these people. He was glad he wouldn’t have to ever again. Twice was more than enough. But yet at the same time…

“Wait a second. We’re still one short…” There had always been seven of them, lucky number seven, and excluding Georgie, Audra, and Patty, Richie could only count five, excluding himself as well. Suddenly it came to Richie's attention who wasn’t here.

“Richie?” The voice coming from behind him was soft and faint and sounding like it was in complete disbelief. Richie turned and his heart started to beat so hard it felt it was going to explode. Just like when he was a kid.

There, looking small and frail despite the true strength and bravery he possessed, was none other than Eddie Kaspbrak. His hair was neatly combed and his clothes were clean as always, and tucked in the back pocket of his shorts was his inhaler that Richie especially doubted he even needed anymore. His eyes were wide and stared right at Richie, probably not even noticing anyone else.

Richie swallowed thickly. “Eddie?”

They were stuck in a trance, only staring at each other unmoving while everyone else watched on. Then, the trance ended and they both moved towards each other.

Before Richie could go to hug Eddie once he reached him, Eddie grabbed the front of Richie’s tee shirt and pull him down to kiss him. Richie was so shocked by the action that he just stood there dumbfounded while Eddie pressed his lips against his own. Then, as quickly as the kiss had happened, Eddie pushed Richie back slightly and gave him a punch to the arm. The small boy laughed and that’s when Richie finally noticed he was crying. “What the fuck took you so long, Trashmouth?”

Richie felt tears of his own fall down his face as he gave a small chuckle. “Wasn’t all that interested in dying, Eds. Now that I’ve experienced it though, I must say it’s not half bad.”

The two of them awkwardly laughed together, painfully aware of the burning stares everyone else was giving them. 

Richie cleared his throat. “So I know we may be a couple decades late on having this conversation we were going to have ‘later’ before you died, but you still interested in it?”

Eddie had a weird look on his face, but he nodded and the two headed off alone in the Barrens for privacy. They were walking close together, shoulder and hands brushing up against each other, and at one point, the boys found themselves holding hands, though neither was aware of who made the first move and when. It just happened naturally. 

They reached a small clearing in the woods where a tree had fallen and the two took a seat on it, unclasping their hands and leaving a foot of space between them on the log. They sat silently for a moment before Eddie spoke up.

“Nice tattoo, Loser.” He snickers, nudging Richie’s arm.

When Richie looked down at his forearm, he saw that Eddie was right. The tattoo that said LOSER with the V written over the S Richie had when he was alive was still written on his body now. He assumed that when he awoke as an eleven-year-old again, he would have had the same body. He was nearly forty when he got the tattoo, so he wasn’t sure why it was there on his arm now. 

“To be honest, I didn’t even know that was there.” Richie laughed. “And the funny story is, nearly the entire time I had that tattoo I didn’t know why I got it. I had no memory of getting it nor what it meant. I just knew it made me feel sad. I now know why that was.” Richie gave Eddie a small, sad smile. 

Eddie laughed, rolling his eyes that were starting to water again.”Wow. Who knew Trashmouth was such a sap. You used to tease me about writing that on my cast all the time and then I go and die and you decided to permanently write that on your skin. I’m oddly flattered, Richie.”

“Anything for you, Eds.” Richie snorted, letting the conversation drift off once again. 

After a minute, Richie eventually lets his gift of talking take control of him. “So, where’s Myra? I noticed Stan and Bill’s consorts came with them yet I have yet to meet the lovely lady lucky enough to tie you down with a marriage license.” Richie laughed at his joke, but Eddie grew silent and took a minute to respond.

“You’re supposed to share the afterlife with the people most important to you who made you the happiest. I loved Myra and she was my wife, but deep down, neither of us were truly happy. Hell, she was basically my mother. You can’t feel pain, get injured, or die here, but if I got stuck with one of the women who tried to control and manipulate me all my life, I’d have tried my absolute damndest to figure out a way to die. I wasn’t like Bill or Stan or Bev and Ben. I wasn’t happy with my spouse. I would never do anything to hurt her like cheat on her, but at the same time, we were both making each other miserable by being together. No, the only times I felt truly happy and free was with you guys. With the Losers.”

Richie nodded along in somber silence; a mood that occurred about as often for Richie as a solar eclipse. Finally, he speaks back up. 

“I was always at my happiest around you.”

Eddie chuckles, not surprised by the statement in the slightest. “Ditto here, Trashmouth. Even if you are annoying and borderline unbearable.”

“Hey! I’ll have you know that I am perfectly pleasant to be around. I should know because I’m the one who’s spent the most time around me.”

“I feel like that means you should know best just how obnoxious you are.” 

Richie tried to look offended, but he just ended up laughing along with Eddie. Neither of them knew how, but the foot of space between them disappeared, and Eddie leaned his head down to rest on Richie’s shoulder, and Richie leaned his own head against Eddie’s. Everything felt right. 

They lost track of how long they were there together, but once they heard the shrill sound of Bev’s whistle, they knew it may have been time to head back to the others. As they stood, Richie turned to Eddie. 

“Hey, Eds-”

“Don’t call me that.”

“-since we’re already destined to spend the rest of eternity together, what do you think about spending the rest of it with me, together.”

“Richie, we’ve already established that I don’t have much of a choice here, we’re already going to be together.’

“No, no, no, no. Not together like in the physical presence of. Together like, uh,” Richie felt his face flush slightly. “Like Bill and Audra together. Or Stan and Patty. Or, by the sounds of it, Ben and Bev. I did not know they got together, by the way, I guess I left Derry too early to find out about that. I’m rambling, I’ll stop.” He clamped his mouth closed and Eddie laughed.

“Are you asking me out, Richie? In the afterlife?” 

“Uhh… yes? I know I wasn't the best I probably could have been to you while we were alive as kids, but I feel like an eternity spent with you as kids again may give me enough time to fix my past mistakes.”

Eddie threw his head back and let out another laugh. “You really are one of a kind, Richie.”

“Oh don’t you know it, Eds.”

“If you keep calling me Eds, Richie, I may have to change my mind to no.”

“Ohh, so is that a yes I hear, eh?” Richie threw his arms in the air and shouted to no one in particular. “HE SAID YES, FOLKS!”

“Beep beep, Richie.”

“You know you love me, Eds.”

“Yeah, maybe I do.” He looked at Richie. “I really am glad you’re here with me, Richie. I really missed you.”

Richie smiled and ruffled Eddie’s hair before grabbing his hand once again as they made their way back to the other Losers, probably to finish up the game of guns they had been playing before Richie arrived. “I really missed you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this in some way! Thank you so much for reading! Feel free to leave a comment, and criticism is always welcome
> 
> If you want to hit me up or ask a question or anything, you can also find me at https://the-barrens-are-ours.tumblr.com/
> 
> Thank you all again so much!


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